


That's Love, Isn't It?

by thegreatelsewhere



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatelsewhere/pseuds/thegreatelsewhere
Summary: Short story for Secret Samol 2017 about Lem and Emmanuel meeting up again shortly after the events of the first season.





	That's Love, Isn't It?

**Author's Note:**

> This might not be completely compatible with canon - I'm not finished with Winter in Hieron yet. This includes not being sure if there was running water/second floor bathrooms possible in Velas or not, so sorry if that's incorrect as well! And as noted in the summary, I wrote this for Secret Samol 2017, as a gift for rileylefae.tumblr.com.

Frost was eating its way up the windowpanes in the Flying Fox, the tavern Lem King had been staying at since the events of High Sun Day. He had been gradually getting used to the snow for the past week (as had everyone, some with more success than others), but still thought there was something beautiful about the tiny crystals branching up the glass, although the cold they brought with them was less pleasant.

Lem's room was rather small, but not uncomfortable, as he had managed to charm the bartender, Loretta Worthington, into letting him stay in exchange for playing violin for the patrons for a couple hours each night. Rooms were at a premium as suddenly stranded travelers scrambled to make other accommodations and keep themselves safe from the cold, but as Lem had pointed out, the people needed something to keep their spirits up, didn't they? And besides, Loretta owed him a favor, and he had agreed to give her a certain percent of his tips. 

At the moment, he was sitting in a stiff, old, green armchair, next to the meager fire he had pulled together from the stock of damp firewood out back. In front of him, on a rickety old table, was a cup of coffee and a letter from Morbash, one of his former higher-ups from the archives. It was blunt and to the point - he said he would be coming to visit soon, snow be damned, and this time wouldn't let Lem sneak away into the night with his violin. The tone wasn't completely bleak, though, and mentioned a strange detail about caring for a plant that gave Lem some hope that he might have a chance to redeem himself. Well, not that he felt very repentant about the theft, but at least a chance to stop the Archivists from pursuing him quite so relentlessly. He'd find a way to convince them to let him keep the violin somehow.

The thought troubling Lem most now, though, wasn't the letter he had received or the threat of punishment or even the seemingly never-ending snow and what it might signify. What he really couldn't stop thinking about was Nacre, and one person in specific from Nacre... He and Fero had had quite an argument about it after they returned, Fero still convinced he was right to destroy the city and baffled as to why Lem couldn't see things that way. "Of COURSE you would care more about some old books, about people you don't even know, than about me and Hella and what's good for the rest of Hieron!" Fero had said in a huff, and then stormed off to god knows where to sulk. Even if Emmanuel wasn't in the picture at all, Lem thought crossly, suddenly angry about it again, I would feel the exact same way! Destroying an entire city just because they're too closed-minded to find another way! But, he had to admit, he was especially upset about the danger it had put Emmanuel in, and now with this snow, who knew when they would see each other again or if... Lem tried to put the thought out of his mind, and went back to anxiously staring at the snow crystals creeping up the window, vaguely watching the people struggle through the slush on the street below.

Wait a second - what was that? He sat up and took a harder look at what was happening down below. There was a figure that he could almost swear... but no, he shouldn't get his hopes up, even if Emmanuel had been planning on visiting him before the storm, what were the chances he would be able to make his way here now? It was probably just another mistake, but he couldn't help getting his hopes up anyway, something about the way the figure outside was walking... and then the man down below tripped and fell, knocking his hood back and his hat off, exposing the curly black hair below, and a cacophony of swearing echoed up to Lem's window, in a foreign language he had only heard one place before, and without even grabbing his cloak he launched out of his chair and stormed down the stairs, past a confused Loretta and bursting through the front door of the Flying Fox to find - 

Emmanuel! He was still on the ground, grumbling and examining a cut on his hand from where it had hit the pavement. He didn't seem to have noticed Lem yet. Abruptly and surprisingly, Lem found himself unsure what to say. He really came all the way here! What was I even thinking, we don't know anything about each other! He could have been killed on the way! Maybe it's presumptuous of me to think he's here to see me in the first place, there are plenty of reasons to come to Velas. Realizing it would be infinitely more awkward to turn back at this point, Lem took a step towards Emmanuel to at least help him up, desperately trying to think of something to say. At the same moment as he bent forward and reached out his hand, Emmanuel finally looked up, locking eyes with him. The irritation and pain on his face melted into a smile. "Lem King. I was told I would be able to find you here... I am glad it was true."

Lem broke into a grin without even noticing it, a warmth spreading through his chest, a blush on his cheeks. "Here, let me help you up," he said, as Emmanuel was still staring intently at his face and didn't seem to have fully registered his outstretched arm. "Oh! Of course." Emmanuel reached out and finally took his hand, and Lem found himself thinking, I could get used to this.

Lem led Emmanuel inside the Flying Fox, and after dodging some nosy questions from the bar staff and procuring bandages, took him upstairs so they could talk in a bit more privacy. "Sorry, it's very small," Lem said sheepishly, opening the door to his cramped living quarters. Emmanuel stepped in behind him, still strangely quiet, and Lem got hit with another wave of anxiety that maybe, somehow, he was misinterpreting things. "Here, let me take a look at that," he said hastily, knocking over the now-cold cup of coffee on the table as he gestured a bit too wildly at Emmanuel's still-bleeding hand. "Oh- shit." Finally, Emmanuel broke his silence with a deep, loud laugh behind him. "Ah, I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh," he said, still chuckling, reaching down with his good hand and rescuing the letter from the quickly advancing pool of coffee. "I just thought, yes, there is no mistake, this is the same Lem King I met in Nacre. Oh, so you really are with the Archivists."

Relieved but slightly indignant, Lem took the letter from his hands before he could read more and set it down on the bed, and just said, "Here, let's go into the bathroom, I'll clean that cut up for you." This time, it was Emmanuel's turn to look embarrassed. "I suppose we are both starting things off a little clumsily." Lem laughed as they walked into the adjacent bathroom, bringing the alcohol and bandages with them. Emmanuel rolled up his right sleeve - he had such lean, muscular arms, Lem noticed - and held his hand out over the sink. "I'm not used to this weather, all this ice," he said. "It's unusual even for Velas, isn't it? Everyone here seems, how should I put it, a bit... panicked. Very few people on the streets in the city, or outside of it for that matter. The journey here- ah!" He yelped in pain as Lem poured alcohol over the wound, then laughed sheepishly when Lem apologized. He was so attractive when he was embarrassed, Lem thought guiltily, the way his mouth curled up in a smile involuntarily and the faint hint of a red blush on the very sides of his cheeks, under his rough black stubble. Lem noticed Emmanuel had stopped his story, and was staring back at him, still leaned over and lightly gripping his right wrist. Flustered, he blushed himself and looked back down, finishing his work sanitizing the wound.

"I'm glad you were able to make it up here okay," Lem said, looking intently at Emmanuel's arm as he carefully applied a square of bandage over his cut and wrapped the gauze around it. "I was worried, you know, with what happened in Nacre," he paused awkwardly, "and then with the snow, I didn't know if I would see you again. Or if you would be okay, I mean, of course, if you would be safe or not, that's much more important, but," he finished wrapping his hand but didn't let it go, and finally looked up into Emmanuel's eyes, which were filled with emotion in a way he wasn't sure he had ever been looked at before, "Emmanuel, I'm so glad you came to see me." Emmanuel smiled, still with that odd soft look in his eye - love, Lem realized, that's love, isn't it? I wonder if I'm looking at him the same way? Emmanuel interlocked the fingers of his right hand with Lem's, and then grasped it with his left as well. 

"Everything seemed like it was falling apart," he said. "I thought - if you'd accept it - I could work on building something up, instead."

Lem knew things would probably get worse before they got better, and there was still the letter from Morbash, and the snow piling up outside, and everything else in the world to worry about, but for now, Emmanuel was here, his hand in Lem's, and he loved him, and that was all that mattered.


End file.
